


Survival of the Fittest

by MicroscopicMurder



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mild Gore, Survival, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicroscopicMurder/pseuds/MicroscopicMurder
Summary: Based on the prompt "Everything here can kill you, but I can do it the most efficiently."
         Phil wakes up to find not only himself faced with the apocalypse, but also two very intimidating home intruders.  Will he be able to stay alive long enough to escape, or will the small home in the woods be his place of rest?





	1. Waking up

**Author's Note:**

> I'm horrible, I'm procrastinating writing my other story and instead started a new one! But I do have a beautiful beta reader now, she shall keep me from making a /complete/ fool of myself now, I guess. So, without further adeu, lets get started!!

Phil remembers first waking up in the zombie apocalypse.  At first he thought everything was normal, he opened his eyes to a dark room, which his brain decided was his bedroom, until it wasn't. 

He shifted uncomfortably, his elbow hitting the hardwood of the floor as he reached to roll over or sit up, honestly he was just surprised not to be in his sheets.  The new 'zombie' epedemic had been absorbing most of Europe, slowly but surely closing in on where he lived.  He thought since he lived in the north that it would come later, but his predictions were wrong.   

His arm slid up the wall to grasp at the lightswitch, after a few missed attempts, he did find it, and Phil let out a sigh of relief, he was still home. However, he did have a problem, because when he tried the door, he found that it was locked, or jammed, from the outside.  This was interesting, why would someone lock him in his own closet? He could hear shuffling outside, whoever it was was still there.  It wasn't a zombie, or else he'd be dead, so it had to be a sane person. 

Very hesitantly, Phil reached a hand up and gave a soft knock on the white wood of the closet door.  Every noise stopped, and nothing could be heard until- 

"What the fuck was that?!" 

At this sudden, loud exclamation, Phil jumped back the five inches his closet would allow, but the sound of his heel hitting the floor was apparently too loud, because before he could react the were heavy footsteps coming from down the stairs next to his room, and he sat terrified as they stopped in front of the door. 

There was a pause, then the door flung open, revealing two tall males, one looking considerably younger than the other, but still looking in their mid 20s.  The younger one was clad in black and grey, a brown fringe framing the face perfectly while the older one had a dark blue shirt on under a black sweatshirt, he had curly brown hair.  Phil took a moment to notice how beat up they both looked, too.  Bruises adorned the younger ones face, while a large bandage stuck to the curly haired person's cheek. 

Phil took a small step forwards, almost to test the water, but stopped immediately when he saw a knife pulled from the belt of the brown eyed man. His amber eyes darted past Phil to the other person, Phil noted that while the younger boy had dark eyes, the older one had hazily-blue eyes, much like his own.  The eyes soon fill with anger as they settled on the other. 

"I thought you  _ killed him." _ The hazel eyed man said, sounding very irritated and very murderous. 

"I was going to, but I just can't-" The other responded before being cut off. 

"I'm going downstairs to...sort out rations, you,  _ take care of him before I get back, _ okay?" Phil did not like the sound of that.  He didn't want to die! He was his own home,  he figured if he would die in the apocalypse it'd be from something cool or badass, like zombies, not a twenty-something year old with a knife who somehow found his home in the middle of the woods. I mean, Phil's not one to judge, but even he can tell that this kid is far too posh looking to be this far up north. 

Before either of them could utter any words, the intimidating man walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, the sound on the stairs creaking being the only thing to fill the void of silence.  The brown eyed guy turned to send an apologetic glance to Phil.  He did actually look sorry, his eyes practically conveying silent words like ' _ I don’t want to do this' _ , but the knife being pulled from his back pocket showed him otherwise.  Phil jumped back, affectively tripping back over the bedpost in an attempt to get as far away as possible. 

"Please, can't we just...talk about this?!" He tried to remain calm, but the other male shuffled forwards, and Phil pretends he doesn't see how wet his big doe eyes are getting, or the fact that his hands are shaking around the handle of the knife. 

"I-I don't want to do this, b-but, we don't have enough f-food for three people, understand?" He looked away, his tightening grip apparent by his white knuckles. "I don't want to be a murderer..." He said softly. 

"Can't you just let me leave? I won't come back and you won't have to kill me!" Phil suggested, glancing around the room for any possible exits.  Door? No, its right behind him.  Window? On the second floor.  Seemed like talking would be the only way out of this one. 

"I'd be very painful, there are so many infected, I-I don't want that for you..." He sighed, his eyes again travelling over Phil's curled up form. 

"Won't it be painful either way? It all ends in me dead, a-anyway..." 

"Everything here can kill you, but I can do it the most efficiently" He said, and this time his voice held strong, but it also sounded as though he was trying to convince himself, like he was trying to rationalize. 

Phil went silent. Is this how he died? By the hands of some Londoner in the apocalypse? Should he fight? Sure, the other had a knife, but Phil was larger in stature.  He could knock him down, maybe grab the knife. 

Phil pounced, grabbing the other by the midsection and knocking him down onto the hard carpeted floor.  He seemed to not expect that, and when he tried to use the knife Phil was able to easily snatch it from his grip, taking both of his hands and holding them above his head with a death hold.  The younger's large brown eyes stared in fear as Phil still held the knife, ready to defend himself if he fought back.


	2. Hi, my name is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil is desperate to befriend his attacker, or to at least get on his good side

A minute or two passed between the two adults before Dan struggled more, and the quick flick of his hips was enough to effectively knock Phil off balanced from where he sat holding him down.  The knife he was holding in his hand fell and hit the floor next to the dark clothed man’s head before he sprung up and made a run for the door.

This time, Phil was ready, so he jumped up after him, grabbing him around the torso before lifting him up a bit and flipping him around. The last thing he needed was the other guy to come back, especially now that he got the upper hand, a bit.  The brown eyed boy fell and stumbled towards where he was thrown, tripping and hitting his head, hard, on the corner of the bed frame.   A rumbled groan was pulled from the boy’s throat as he turned over, and Phil audibly gasped at the gash on his forehead.

He sat defensively, as though he thought Phil would attack him, before a wave of pain seemed to wash over him and he ducked his head, curling up. Phil had  _ absolutely no idea  _ of what to do. 

This person was trying to kill him not five minutes ago, and he felt bad for hurting him?  Maybe all of the adrenaline had gotten to his head, but Phil certainly did not want this guy bleeding to death on his bedroom carpet.  He ran, retrieving a thin shirt from his drawer before kneeling beside the bleeding attacker, who, again, tried fruitlessly to shift away.  It crossed Phil’s mind that he was scared of him, which came as a shock. Sure he’s like six feet tall, but nobody had ever really been  _ afraid,  _ just cautious and sometimes judgement.

One of Phil’s hands gripped the stranger’s shoulder to keep him from moving while he tried to tie the cloth with the other, which was harder than he had hoped.  Eventually, he decided he would have to use both hands, but when he let go of the guy’s shoulder, he shuffled back against the bed frame.  Phil sighed, rolling his eyes before crawling forwards with him.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you, this was an accident, okay? What’s your name, anyway..?” He inquired, leaning in and silently thanking the gods when the injured man didn’t struggle or try to run off again.

“Dan, my name is…. Dan…” He spoke softly, his eyes unfocused as he stared towards the grey carpeting of the floor.

“Well, Dan, I think we got off on the wrong foot, my name’s Phil,” He said positively, tying the ends of the cloth once he got it wrapped securely around the wound.  He sat back on his heels and was a bit taken aback when he saw Dan staring up at him with wide eyes, like he was an alien or something.  

Phil huffed, how was he supposed to get on good terms with someone who is both terrified of him and wants him dead?  The simple answer would be that you don’t, that it’s impossible, but with that other guy downstairs, Dan was the best ally he could get.  Phil definitely didn’t want to be  _ alone _ during the apocalypse, but he certainly di not want murderous company.

Dan watched him as Phil stood up and walked to the other side of the room, looking out his window. It was dark out, something Phil had not noticed before.  His house was on the edge of the woods, and it connected to a two mile road that stretched off into the nearest town.  How long had they been walking to get there, he wondered.  As a kid he would ride his bike to school, and that had been tiring, so it must have been a real pain to not only walk down  _ his  _ road, but to come all the way from out of town during a crisis like this.  A loud banging from downstairs stirred him from his thoughts, and he quickly took a glance over to Dan.  His head had stopped bleeding, and he looked able bodied enough to walk.

“C’mon, why don’t you introduce me to your, friend?” Phil urged, “We can get this mess sorted out… and, find a way to fix it, i guess.”

Dan gave a short hum of approval before stumbling up to his own feet.  Phil watched in silence,  he felt bad.  He tripped, but before he could hit the ground Phil was there to catch him by the shoulders.  He pretended to not notice the way Dan leaned on him after that, even when they made their way down the stairs.

It was unusually quiet on the first floor.  Phil’s house was very old, and almost any movement  would cause an interrupting groan of disapproval from the floorboards.  But now they heard nothing, and Phil found the silence unsettling.  Dan lifted his head from where it was laying on his shoulder to look around the room.  He was very tired, it was apparent in the way his knees bent just a little bit, and by the way his shoulders sagged, it made him look shorter than he was.  Any other time it would have seemed cute, now it was concerning, the cloth wrapped messy around his skull made the image morbid.  

“P-Pj? Are you here?” Dan inquired into the silent house, his figure swaying.  His question was met by silence once again, and they both sighed. He let Dan hobble over to the couch.  He wasn’t very afraid, Phil already took away the offending knife, and Dan was injured, so it would be hard to be intimidated anyway.

Phil clutched the knife in his strong hand, going to explore the house.  He saw that intruders had broken in through one of his windows, which he noted was now boarded up, and they must have raided his pantry too, not that much was in it.

He continued around the corner until he made it to the back door, which was slightly ajar.  This really concerned him, why would they bother boarding up the windows just to leave the door open?  Phil took a step forwards before he notice a very large dark stain smeared on the soft carpet of the floor.  He noticed the inhumane claw marks left in the doorway, how the fabric of the carpet was slightly ripped up.  It was something straight from a horror movie, and a blood curtling scream heard from the woods caused a shiver to roll down his spine.  

He slammed the door shut, basically running back to the living room where Dan was still curled up on the couch. Phil spotted an old blue luggage bag, it looked like the other two may have brought it with them.  He grabbed it and started searching the house, checking off essential items like flashlights and medical kits, stuffing them in unceremoniously.  Finally he got back to Dan.  He looked just as scared, and Phil was about to say something before an ominous scratching was heard near the back door, followed by a growl.  Without thinking, Phil grasped Dan’s wrist in one hand and the bag in the other, making a bee-line for the upstairs doorway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Thanks for reading this! If you liked this chapter, leave some kudos and comments so i know to keep working, also, my instagram is @uptownapollo if anyone would like to check me out there, and as always, i will see you, in the next chapter, buh-bye!


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